


A Very Good Thing

by RaeC



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-03
Updated: 2002-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-10 12:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeC/pseuds/RaeC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wishes do come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Good Thing

~~~

There it was again, that annoying little tickle in the back of his head. That sense of the world, as he knew it, about to end suddenly and with extreme prejudice. He could fix this. No, he would fix this. No problem. Pretend 'it' never happened. Pretend he hadn't made a fool of himself and Jim didn't see or understand a thing. The friendship would be safe, secure, back on solid ground.

Blair pulled the car into his parking spot at the loft. Three hours, he'd been gone three hours. Was that enough time for his friend to cool off? The first step is always the hardest. He just had to pick himself up off the floor and face the music.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid."

His hands shook.

His mouth ran dry.

He couldn't breathe.

He shivered in the chill air, the cool Fall evening leaching the moisture from his skin as soon as he perspired.

'Okay, I can do this. No problem. I'm cool. I'm cool.' Banging his head on the steering wheel, Blair felt anything but calm. No amount of self-delusion was working. He was fucked.

~~~

Several hours earlier...

The enticing sight of the loft came into his line of site as Jim rounded the corner. Right now he wanted nothing more than to have a quiet evening at home. With Blair. The promised stress relief of an evening out at the bar with Simon was a complete bust. All the more stressful because Blair wasn't there and Jim kept looking for him. Listening for the familiar voice to jump into the conversation with an odd tale or two of indigenous tribes of Madagascar. Waiting for the hand on his back, his arm, or laying carelessly on his thigh. The wanted/needed/accepted warmth and presence...missing.

Walking into the building, Jim rubbed at his temples trying to get rid of headache building before he made it to the door. All he wanted right now was the calming influence of his partner.

Entering the loft, Jim was greeted to mutters of 'No.' 'Not that one.' 'Won't work.' 'I have absolutely nothing to wear.' No, it wasn't possible. Not now! Not tonight!

"Chief?" Jim cautiously called out for his roommate. Extending out his hearing, Jim heard the sounds of someone frantically throwing clothes on. And he was sure from the nervous nature of his Guide that he was going to be in for some colourful language in the process. Jim didn't have to wait long.

"Damn! Not yet, shit, not yet, not yet. Fuck."

"Chief?"

"I'm coming! Gimme a sec."

Tossing his keys in the basket and hanging up his coat, Jim headed for the fridge and a beer. Yeah, a nice cold frosty one to chase down what was coming. He could feel it in his bones. Better to be prepared. Blair had a date. Oh god. Jim almost walked back out the door. Blair hadn't had a date since....well not since then. Not a damn thing. Why now?

A barrelling bundle of energy flew out of Blair's room, hair flying in every direction. Jim couldn't pick up any clues to this strange behaviour. Blair dressed as he normally did around the loft, in his old jeans with the frayed knees and a deep blue flannel shirt that he was still buttoning up. Frantically he tried to calm his rapid breathing, his heart pounding out nearly out of his chest, and tame his hair all in once.

"Jim! You're home early!"

Normal. Just act normal. Pretend as if nothing is wrong. Jim tossed back the rest of his beer, mask firmly in place. "Yeah. Darrell called. Simon had to go."

A strange, forlorn look passed over his Guide's face before slipping back into the ever-present smile of the Guide waiting to see to his Sentinel's needs.

"Anything wrong?"

"No big deal. Normal teenage things."

"Well, I'll make dinner then. I was just going to heat up some leftovers anyway. Sandwiches cool?"

"Chief? Am I interrupting something?"

Blair turned around, slightly guilty, and even more so embarrassed. "No. I didn't have any plans. I was just planning on spending the evening at home. Alone." Blair turned back to the counter, still pulling out plates, silverware, food. Anything to keep his hands occupied.

"Then what's with the uh, sudden..." Jim struggled to find the right word.

"Nothing, it's cool."

He wandered over to Blair's room, and popped his head in. Blair followed his heart rate spiking. "Blair?"

"I was trying to buy a clue. Stupid idea. Didn't work out like I planned." He shrugged his shoulders escaping back into the kitchen, picking up the knife to finish slicing the tomatoes.

Jim stood in the doorway amazed at the havoc that was hurricane Blair. Clothes were spread all over the room. Blair's good clothing, the ones he went out dancing in. And if he wasn't going out, and no one was coming over, who was Blair getting dressed up for?

"Buy a clue? You planning on appearing on Wheel of Fortune?"

"No. Just drop it, okay?"

"And buying a clue has something to do with nothing to wear?"

"Jim. I said to drop it. Leave it alone."

"Blair, what's going on?" Jim had perfected his 'Ranger Looking for Bad Guys Under the Bed' routine long before his Sentinel abilities kicked in. And his friend right now was in full 'Blessed Protector' complete with 'Black Ops Take No Prisoners' mode.

Blair had had it. Slamming the knife down on the cutting board, Blair rounded on his roommate.

"You know what, Jim? I realized something today. I'm invisible, a piece of the furniture around here and at the station. You don't even *see* me, do you? I'm just part and parcel of the Great Sentinel of the City's package." Breathing heavily, horror invaded as Blair grasped what he just said.

Jim's matching expression did nothing for the young man's confidence.

"Oh god!" Panicked, Blair grabbed his jacket, and ran. The door slammed before Jim even had time to blink.

~~~

'I am a putz.' Blair looked up at the semi-darkened loft. Soft light spilled out into the night, from the kitchen so that Blair could see when he came back. 'Okay, we can survive this. Jim's not totally pissed.'

He got out of the car and slowly walked up the stairs, a prisoner on his way to the execution chamber. One dead Guide walking. The door loomed ahead large and forbidding. What just four hours ago had been ten feet to the front door of his home was now hundreds of miles away, each small step taken weighted with lead. 'I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.' Maybe if he repeated it enough times, he would finally believe it.

Wiping his hands on jeans, Blair unlocked the door and froze. The light in the kitchen was definitely on, but it was the trail of paper that led up to Jim's room that caught his attention.

Jim leaned on the railing from his bed. The chill from the hard metal raised goose bumps over his already sensitised skin. The last three hours had been sheer torture as he waited for Blair to come home. Anticipation burned in his veins and he didn't want to miss a moment of Blair's reaction. Two could play at this clue game.

Blair closed the door, not knowing what to think. He'd as much *told* Jim that he was interested in him, Jim turned ten shades of blue, and now there was a trail of paper from the entrance to the loft? 'What the hell?' This had to be the strangest...apology...either of them had given and Blair was the one who should be pacing around Jim.

It was pretty hard to miss Jim...upstairs...on his bed...looking right at Blair...

"Jim?" That slightly panicky feeling was back, right along with the one that felt as if the world as he knew it was about to end. Maybe Blair should have paid more attention to the voice screaming in the back of his head in the car. Maybe Jim didn't forgive him at all and this was just another weird Sentinel thing.

Jim glanced significantly down at his Guide's feet. He watched and waited, knowing Blair would catch on in a second. Blair never could resist a mystery. Finally, Blair broke eye contact, and reached for the first note.

'First of all, Sandburg,' Jim had that part underlined, 'this is not some weird Sentinel crap.' Blair needed confirmation, needed some sort of help here to figure out this newest puzzle in the life that called itself the Sandburg Zone. He looked up at Jim. Jim merely nodded at the next sheet. Hesitantly, and Blair just knew the axe was going to fall now, he picked it up.

'Two, you've never been invisible.' Blair wasn't quite ready to believe that yet. Something bizarre was going on, but Blair wasn't backing down. Too much could be gained if he would just take that next step forward.

'Three, you're wearing too many clothes.' Blair snorted. Surprise and pleasure fought for dominance at that bold statement. Jim had found the clue bus and it was heading right for his station. "Is that so?" Jim grinned, his eyes darkening. The Cheshire Cat had nothing on the man.

Heat pooled in Blair's groin. He took another step forward.

'You could have just talked to me.' Now, that was so true. Blair fell right into the trap. "I got scared."

'Figured that out myself, Darwin.' Blair started, dropping all the notes from his hand. "I'm not invisible?" Jim just shook his head, a half smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. Okay, this was freaking him out now. Just a little, and in a good way. Blair had reached the bottom of the stairs and picked up the next one half-afraid of what he would find now.

'You still have too many clothes on.' This one made him laugh. "Okay, okay, okay! I get it!" Blair started peeling layers with Jim looking on avidly drinking in every nuance. First to go was the blue flannel that he had been wearing that earlier in the evening, button by button. Next were the shoes. Toeing them off, Blair picked up the next letter, reading as he unbuttoned his pants.

'I need you in my life, Chief.' Dropping the sheet in favour of using two hands on the zipper which having difficulty navigating all of sudden, Blair looked right at Jim no holds barred. "Why?"

Jim hadn't moved from his bird's eye view perch, nor was he talking. In this game, Blair held all the cards, literally. Faced with no other option except to keep reading, Blair grabbed the next note.

'Because you,' underlined again, 'are important to me.' Blair finally struggled out of his jeans by leaning against the wall and using it for support. Right now, he needed support in any form it was willing to take. "This conversation is getting way too deep, man."

'Blue looks good on you.' Jim was back to smirking again.

How did he keep doing that!? Socks and T-shirt were next to go. With every step that Blair took toward Jim another piece of himself was revealed, either in skin or emotion. And Jim ate it up. That's what kept Blair moving up those stairs, the look in Jim's eyes, the 'I want to fuck you so hard' look. Blair was a fish dangling on the hook being reeled in, not even trying to get away.

Just letting it happen.

'But you really have to do something about those jeans.' Blair picked up his jeans from the stairs. Defensively, he clung to the warm soft denim. He'd had these jeans for eight years, they were his favourite pair. Well, all right, they had fraying holes in the knees. "What's wrong with my jeans? They're comfortable."

'The holes are in the wrong spot.' A chuckle finally made its way to the surface. Jim couldn't help it. He had tried his best to be quiet, but the look on Blair's face was priceless; half-baleful glare and half-devilish smirk. "I'm going to remember you said that."

Oh Jim hoped so. God he really hoped so. An image of Blair walking ahead of him in the market, the worn spot just under his left back pocket torn and exposing bits of bare flesh, flashed before his eyes. Sweat broke out on Jim's upper lip as he read the promise of retribution on Blair's face. Blair licked his lips as he took the next stair, reaching for the next sheet of paper, never loosing eye contact with Jim.

Unconsciously Jim mimicked the gesture, salt exploding across his tongue. A barely repressed moan ached to be released. Blair, half naked and wanting, stood barely ten feet from him. And the heat radiating from the man was crawling all over his skin. He wanted to reach out and touch, just needed to add touch to the smell, the look, the taste that was invading him at every level. But Jim had to reign in the want. He wasn't quite finished with his notes yet.

Blair could read the desire lurking just underneath his Sentinel's restraint. This was a man barely held in check. Curiously, Blair raised his eyebrows and Jim's only response was to wait. His eyes smouldered, lowering himself onto the bed, burning the image forever into Blair's mind; Jim, reclining on the bed, mesmerised by every move he made, as if Blair was breakfast, lunch, dinner and midnight snack all in one.

A small motion broke the spell and Blair moved again. 'Two more steps. Two more steps. I can do this. Two more steps.'

'You don't have to wear something special to get my attention.' A blush stole over Blair's cheeks as he remember the mess called his room. "No? Because if you don't like the flannel, I can get rid of it you know." Jim became a bit irritated with his stalling Guide. A growl slid along his vocal cords warning Blair he'd better get a move on. Jim could only hold out so long. Almost there!

'I know you, Blair.' Oh Blair had to smile at that one, with just a touch of guilt, a bit of remorse, and a whole lot of love. And Jim had made his point eloquently, without ever uttering a word. "Yeah, yeah you do, Jim."

Silk boxers waited at the top of the stairs with their own note. 'I want to take these off myself.' The challenge was right there. What did Blair want? If he put the underwear on, he was crossing the line. They couldn't go back. It wouldn't be about friendship any longer. 'If it ever had been.' It was about Jim. It was about Blair. It was about them, as a couple.

And it wasn't such a hard choice to make. Grinning, Blair slipped off his boxers and pulled on the silk. A final slip of paper rested at his feet where the clothing had been. 'Not good, this was so not good. One shock at a time, Big Guy.' Blair ran his fingers through his hair, sending the auburn mass cascading through the air.

Pay dirt!

It was getting harder and harder for Jim not to move, to not say a word. The suspense was killing him. Blair had to reach for the brass ring on his own. He had made it this far. Jim just had to be patient. Had to let Blair decide. In this one thing, if nothing else in Blair's life of late, *he* had to choose and chose Jim willingly, heart, mind, and body all in accord.

And Jim wanted it all. No bittersweet memories to stave off the dark nights. Blair standing there in the black silk was enough to feed his fantasies for months to come. But Blair in his bed for one night only, or for a couple of weeks while he made up his mind would be too much. Jim wouldn't be able to just walk away at that point. He already had too much of himself invested right now. There was a big difference between acknowledging the attraction between them, and what Jim needed for the rest of his life. This was the make or break moment.

Blair was almost afraid to pick the note up. Half afraid of what it might say, and half afraid of what it might not. What if they didn't want the same things? What if tomorrow...

"Read it, Blair."

With his hand shaking, Blair reached for the final message. This was either the beginning of something beautiful or the beginning of the end.

'I'm in love with you.' Blair collapsed in relief on the floor.

"We on the same page now?"

"Yeah. We are."

"Then get your ass over here."

And Jim smiled. It was going to be a very long night. But for once, that was a good thing. A very good thing.


End file.
